


An Affinity for Knives

by eveshka



Series: Tales of the Dawn King [23]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 15:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11039388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveshka/pseuds/eveshka
Summary: The lad has an affinity for knives.





	An Affinity for Knives

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: T  
> Warnings: None  
> Characters: Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Clarus Amicitia, Regis Lucis Caelum  
> Time Period: Pre-Marilith attack  
> Location: Insomnia, the Citadel

He had not yet been trained in the art of warfare, but there he was, having awoken in the dead of night with the most dread sense of foreboding he'd ever felt. It had sent him in his pajamas, racing barefoot from his uncle's rooms and sending him hurriedly through the secret ways into the Prince's bedroom with the only thing he could think of to grab: a kitchen knife.

He hadn't even wasted time trying to wake Noctis, just dragged him out of bed, grateful that the Prince was somewhat mobile and pliant even when asleep. He'd stuffed the smaller boy into the corner behind the big high-backed chair, then slid himself under the covers, drawing himself into a ball to wait with the knife held in a death grip.

 

In the darkness, the young boy lay, waiting, listening, barely breathing. And then he heard it: a footstep that wasn't quite right. A slight shuffle at the toe, clearly someone looking and searching for something, or, as his stomach tightened with the thought, someone.

The door slowly opened, and Ignis didn't move. One step, two. A third, then a fourth. The fifth brought the intruder to the bed, and there was a low laugh from a voice Ignis didn't recognize. When the man leaned over Ignis with his hideous breath, Ignis moved.

Most knife-strikes are not clean. The blade pierces flesh and sinew easily enough, but all too often the metal encounters bone and stops. Ignis was more lucky than clever, having tilted the blade up under the man's ribcage. It went through skin and muscle, through stomach, liver and into lung. Forensically, it was the strike of a lifetime. For Ignis, it was sheer abject terror.

The intruder did not die silently. He reared back with a cry, reaching for Ignis, who had begun to scramble out of the way, watching with wide green eyes as the man realized what had happened. He lunged for Ignis, the young boy kicking out with his foot, throwing a pillow, scrambling away from grimy hands.

Ignis skittered backwards, falling out of the bed, scrambling for anything he could grab, a bookend coming to hand. He took it in both hands and slammed it down on the man's head as the intruder tried to crawl across the bed. Again. Again. Again. Someone was screaming, he slammed the bookend down again, raised it to strike and it left his hands. Someone was beside him, someone larger and imposing. He stopped screaming and turned to see who had come in, because he was out of weapons and Noctis was still behind that chair.

Pale blue eyes regarded him, a smile that Ignis would later call grim on thin lips. A hand came to rest on Ignis' shoulder, and Clarus Amicitia spoke gently. "Come along, young man, it's over. You're safe." He was being moved, turned away from the man on the bed, drawn around the foot and herded to the door.

Ignis came to a stop, moving to push up glasses that weren't on his nose. He'd left them behind. "Noctis."

"Is right there," Clarus said, and Ignis looked to see Regis standing in the doorway, Noctis curled in his arms, still fast asleep.

With a sigh of relief, Ignis nodded and walked with Clarus towards the door, away from the men in the bedroom who were quietly wondering how one small boy could do quite so much damage with a kitchen knife and a wooden bookend of carved sylleblossoms.

When they reached the father and son, Clarus looked to Regis with that same grim smile. “The lad has an affinity for knives. I’ll make the arrangements.”

Ignis heard, but did not mind. His eyes were only for the Prince who had slept through it all, and who was unharmed. His task was done, and he was so very tired…


End file.
